


The Right Angle

by Dana



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Established Relationship, Gene is being ridiculous, Innuendo and such, Kind of humor (I guess?), M/M, Oral fixations are fun, Semi-public scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 07:43:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11180190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana
Summary: Whatever Gene was up to, Sam had asked for it (of course).





	The Right Angle

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt response from tumblr (given to me **Loz** , many, many forevers ago). I was given a first sentence and was meant to write only five lines in response, but – kind of like it always does – things ended up being blown out of proportion.
> 
> Beta by **Loz** , because my online world is rather circular that way.

Sam had never really believed in the afterlife, but here, watching Gene suck down a curly wurly while his trousers began to feel uncomfortably tight, he knew he was in hell.

They were all by themselves on the upper foyer of the courthouse, were meant to be keeping an eye out for a very wanted man, needed to treat the scene with the seriousness with which it deserved. Seeing as it was Gene, the probability that this display was unintentional was unlikely; certainly Sam had asked for it, thanks to the somewhat demented version of logic that powered Gene Hunt's world.

'We're in a courthouse,' Sam said, voice surprisingly steady as he took a breath, leaned against the railing to try and ease his discomfort. 'Haven't you any sense of decorum?'

'I don't know,' he said in reply, his mouth so close to the chocolate, close to sinful. He raked Sam up and down and back up again, his gaze burningly intense – that ramped the heat up a few more notches, sweat down Sam's neck, the uncomfortable stick of polyester at the small of his back. 'Do you?'

That didn't make much sense, but Sam didn't feel like making an issue out of it. A couple of court staff passed close to them, speaking in low tones as they moved towards the lift. Once they were gone, Sam sighed, close to pouting. 'Stop doing this, Guv – we're in public. It's really beneath you.'

Gene smirked, and glanced back out over the main lobby beneath him, back to enjoying his treat. If Gene thought he was giving Sam what he deserved, doubtlessly Gene was only reacting because Sam had been the one to act in the first place. Maybe not recently, but yes, in the grand scheme of things, that was exactly what had happened. But was there any point in arguing the semantics of it? Sam was going to try – of course, if the heat was too much he should have known never to enter the figurative kitchen, but he did like playing with fire; maybe his argument was lacking, but he didn't much feel like backing down.

So there was a recently acquired habit of his that involved sucking on pen caps, or the end of a pencil, and do what he could to drive Gene wild with distraction. He only ever gave into the urge when Gene was around – just like his Guv, he knew exactly what he was doing – but Sam did, for the most part, keep it to the station, which was public in its own way, but really, not the same thing at all. No, the courthouse was nothing at all like the station, too white instead of dingy grey, with its startling lack of doors that locked and air that was permeated with the scent of stale smoke, and really, once upon a time, Sam had had _principles_. Quickies were one thing, and he'd make do with Gene's office or Lost and Found if he _had_ to, when there just wasn't time to spare for anything more. Even when they were the only ones left on that floor of the station, when the chance of them being caught at it was as close to impossible as probability could stand, Sam still got something extra out of the hot danger of it all.

But if they were going to really let go and get down and dirty, Sam wanted to do it on a bed, wanted to take his time, and he wanted to feel it for at least the next two days. And Sam, being so open about it, had made it clear to Gene that he wasn't in for something fast and furious, Gene knew how to read the signs; Gene had decided it was worth his while, or else it never would have gone this far. Sam would want the time and space to touch Gene all over, and he wanted Gene to be able to do the same in return, and they'd make do with Sam's flat and the fold-out cot, mostly because Gene was adamant about not shagging under the same roof he used to share with his missus. Maybe it tarnished the memory – they'd split amicably enough, the way Sam had with Annie; but while he and Annie had hardly started before they came to the end, Gene had been married for decades. So it was dirty, or _they_ were dirty, but it didn't matter because they kept crashing back into each other, unable to break the connection that had been there all along.

Sam liked doing things as well as he possibly could, not just on the job – perfectionism wasn't the right word, but he took pride in certain things. Cooking a nice meal, and pairing it with just the right drink; or getting Gene to beg, which in the right circumstances, was just as easily said as done. He wanted to suck Gene into his mouth, but whether that was when Sam would let him come or not, well, that was yet to be decided. Sam hadn't planned it all out, not quite, but there was a very general plan of action that he'd set out before himself. He was happy to improvise when and if it were necessary – there used to be a time, he never could have imagined Gene going down on _him_ , but Gene would, and could, and did, fervently and it was just as mind-blowingly _good_. He never could have imagined any of this at all, even though he'd always known how Gene made his blood run hot. Maybe at the time, he'd thought it was anger, or hatred, or both of those things combined, that got his blood pumping in his veins, his heart speeding along like a freight train, his fingers itching to ball into tight fists. Turns out it was just loneliness that clawed at him, a want to be needed, a need to be _had_.

Gene waiting to the end of the shift to alleviate his frustrations was always a possibility – there were times where his will was positively unflagging, and all of Sam's less than subtle machinations had been for nought. But what was far more typical was Gene cutting out of the station as soon as he could, dragging Sam along with him – oh boy – and getting the both of them back to Sam's flat, ASAP. He'd cite whatever reason he'd need to and away they would go – there was a whole bloody lot he could get away with saying, him being the Guv. Bloody ridiculous, but also bloody effective, and if Sam was a better person he would have put his foot down; but he really wasn't as good as all that. After all, it's not like it wasn't exactly what Sam had been angling for, all along.

There was no use in complaining about the particulars of proper procedure, not when he was hot for the action. Neither of them were stupid, but both of them were randy. And Gene, maybe out of some hidden spite, would drive them as fast as the Cortina could handle without actually going so fast as to break any laws. Because yes, hot for it or not, Sam could still be a nag, and Gene did like to draw things out.

So, it wasn't that Gene wasn't also getting what he wanted. Sam was completely bewildered by Gene's actions, as though it were some sort of peculiar revenge, because what could possibly come of him molesting that curly wurly with his mouth? It was petty. Playful, but also obnoxious, and flirtatious. Definitely that, and not only because Sam was coded for it, knew exactly what to look for. And as if it hadn't already been said before, bloody effective.

He knew he was staring now, rather openly, and could only hope his expression was tinged with obvious irritation instead of ambient lust, the heat of it burning the tips of his ears. A grin flicked up at the corner of Gene's mouth, and as he continued his assault on the chocolatey treat, lashes flickering, if there was any doubt in Sam's mind that Gene didn't know exactly what he was doing, well, goodbye to that single shred of his sanity. Sam took a deep breath, held it in, then let it out, slowly, making it clear to all and sundry that it was no real bother at all. He managed a few quietly miserable moments leaning against the railing, thinking a constant stream of non-sexy thoughts – so, absolutely anything to do with Ray – before he had to shift again, groaning in frustration. It wasn't working – he was hard, he was hot, he was really in hell.

'We're in a _courthouse_.'

'Yes – so you keep saying. Do you really think that little of my intelligence, Sammy-boy?,' Gene said. Sam, knowing a loaded question when he heard once, kept his mouth shut as Gene slouched lazily, slowly batted his lashes – no, he really wasn't playing fair. 'I don't need the constant reminders.'

'Of course not, Guv.'

'Any minute now, our witness-turned-suspect is going to walk out of those double doors now and we will have to spring into action. So you'd best be able to move fast, Sammy-boy.'

Sam gritted his teeth. 'Because of _you_ , I can't move fast.' He shifted a fraction, aching. 'I can hardly move at all.' Softer, because they _were_ in a public building, though no one was close by. 'I haven't been this hard in weeks.'

'Serves you right.' There was a glint of wicked glee in Gene's eyes, utter delight at giving Sam a taste of his own medicine.

Gene looked away from him, out over the lobby. 'Just imagine the look on Johnny's face when he finds us here waiting for him, warrant and all.' His grin widened and he sucked the curly wurly back into his mouth, letting his lashes flutter once more, and bloody hell, it was beyond effective. Every now and again, Sam was forcefully reminded what a bastard big prick Gene could be. Right now? Definitely, yep. He groaned again, and pushed himself upright, tried rocking back on his heels, letting his weight shift from one foot to the other, even thought about banging his fists against the railing, _anything_ to help ease the tension. Truth be told, Sam didn't give one flying fuck about the look on Johnny's face – all he could see was Gene.

'This is all your fault. I'm going to look like a fool when I have to limp to the loo.'

'So, where's the problem?' Gene shrugged, stopped enjoying his treat just long enough to say, but then he was back at it, 'You always look like a fool.'

Sam tried to shove a few more unsexy thoughts into his head, but nope, no good, it wasn't working. He shifted about again, wondered if he'd really look all that obvious if he had to start hobbling towards safety. And it wasn't helping, it really wasn't helping, because whenever he glanced askance at Gene, it was either the pink of his lips that caught Sam's eyes, or the chocolate where it glistened, or where the two happened to intervene and oh God, Gene's _mouth_ , the heat of it was really getting to him now. It wasn't that he was jealous, and he wasn't exactly angry, but he knew just how decadently _good_ that piece of chocolate had to have felt, all tight and warm and –

There was a wet pop, and Gene blew a breath out. 'You poor daft sod.' Sam shook himself from his daze, warm all over, hotter beneath his collar. He straightened again, though Gene leaned towards him, arm bumping against his.

'What?' His voice didn't crack, or creak, and he was oddly proud of himself for that.

'Told you there'd be plenty of waiting, you should have brought something to help you pass the time.' Gene's stretched one arm over, the chocolate in hand. And Sam was reminded, for the hundredth time or so, that they were in a courthouse, and Gene didn't much appreciate long slow plans that drove Sam absolutely mad with want, but hey, first times and all. 'But go on, give it a lick.'

Sam gaped at him (there was no better way to put it). 'You're ludicrous – this is ludicrous. You've got to be kidding me,' and yes, right then, right at that moment, his voice buckled beneath the strain, cracking. 'Put that away, right now.'

'Not gonna happen, Gladys. Where exactly d'you expect me to chuck it?'

'You'd better, or I _swear_...'

'What?' Gene was frustratingly calm, but with real humour rolling beneath the surface, and it was catching – Sam was fighting his own grin. 'Throw a tantrum? Hobble off to the loo?' Gene didn't even have to say, 'get down on your knees, where we both know you belong', because Sam was thinking it too. That last bit was, of course, completely out of the question, given that they were in a courthouse. Waiting on their witness-turned-suspect, who was sure to think he was in the all clear. And Sam was holding onto Gene's wrist now, daring to draw the hand with the curly wurly closer to him.

Commotion from the lower floor broke the moment into two, and Sam gasped as he let go, stepping back, a quick sweep of cold shock chasing all that burning heat from his body. Gene's attention flickered away, and he took a chomp from his curly wurly before his eyes were back on Sam's. Sam's mouth was close to dry now, and he still felt like a fool, but at least he wasn't so painfully hard as he'd been half a moment before. 'I'm going to make you pay this, you know,' Sam said, softly, with a grin.

'I look forward to seeing you try.' He tossed the chocolate at Sam, who fumbled to catch it before it could fall to the floor. By then, Gene's back was to him, his coat sweeping up as he strode further and further away. 'Hurry up, Tyler,' he called back, 'there's work to be done.'

Gene was right about that, so Sam hurried to catch up with him – and it turned out, the look on Johnny's face was just as priceless as Gene was expecting it to be, and when he tried resisting arrest he was an absolute pushover, so why had Sam ever worried in the first place? But Sam being able to get Gene back for getting him so wound up in the first place? That would be much, _much_ better, and exactly what Gene had been angling for, all along.


End file.
